The Road I Choose to Travel
by pansexualprincess15
Summary: We follow a young girl's path on the journey through her life, her faction, and her heart. Tris and the Divergent Rebellion never happened. Rated T for occasional swearing and implied sexual actions.


**I haven't uploaded a story on here in quite a while, and though my insanely busy schedule hardly permits story-writing, I've decided to add another thing to my list of to-do's and write a Divergent fanfiction. Lately I've just had an ache to write, but never known what to say in my stories. Well, now I've had a bit of inspiration, and I've decided to share it with you. Please enjoy the story.**

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The chance for Erudite to run around was slim to none. Our sector of the city was filled with large buildings, libraries, computer research laboratories where the smartest engineers and scientists conducted their experiments. There was hardly enough room to stretch our legs and go for a run, or play a game with friends. Not only was our city too crowded for that, but Erudite believed that it was immature, and had banned "horseplaying"-however, they never specified what "horseplaying" was, so I reckon you could get away with some things and not get busted. Erudite was, overall, a rather crowded faction, to be completely honest. You must be _crowded_ with knowledge, so your buildings, your cities, your lives must be _crowded_ with stuff you frankly didn't need. Knowledge doesn't need thousands of dollars of equipment to thrive; knowledge can be obtained with a simple book.

Although this argument was one I supported (well, perhaps I was biased, as it was an argument of my own developing), whenever I shared it with my fellow faction members, I was insulted or told to keep my voice down, or just simply ignored.

Maybe that was the reason I felt I didn't belong in Erudite.

My name was-well, really still is-Greyson Wright. And, before you ask, I am a girl. Many people are surprised when they hear that my name is Greyson and I'm an Erudite girl, as grey is the Abnegation color and a more popular name for boys, but it's the name my mother gave me, and I'm proud of it as I'm proud of her.

My family was one of my sole joys. Besides the thrill of a rare climb up onto the roof of our house (one that usually ended in me being punished), my family was the only thing that made me smile. My father, Roderick Wright, was a research doctor. He was very highly accredited with the discovery of the cures to many diseases. I loved my dad, but as he was in the middle of research for the cure to a skin disease that was having an outbreak, I hardly got to see him lately. Then there was my mother, Quinn Wright. She died when I was about four in a car accident, but the few memories I had of her were nothing but good. When she was alive, she was a simple Central Intelligence coordinator, which means she spent most of her day in front of a computer. Her job wasn't as glamorous as my dad's, but she loved it all the same. She was gorgeous and intelligent, two things I never was.

I suppose I should start at the very beginning, when I was nothing more than a motherless 16-year-old.

The morning of the Aptitude Test is not one I will easily forget. It was a dark day; it had been thunderstorming in our city for the past week or so, and the menacing clouds obscured the sun. Rain pounded the pavement in buckets, and it seemed as if the concrete was permanently stained with rainwater. Instead of the usual sunrise we Erudite citizens were used to, the sky transitioned from dark grey to light grey. That was the start of our day.

That morning, instead of reading the required chapter of my academic work (I hadn't done it the night before; as you can tell, I was guilty of procrastination), I decided to take a walk through the neighborhood. Although Erudite's sector was full of large buildings and libraries, there was one spot where I had my open space: Gateway Park. True, it wasn't very big at all, but it was an expanse of grass, and the closest I got to a field in the heart of the city. As I walked through the streets, the rain had let up a bit, and I abandoned my umbrella. I didn't mind the storm, unlike the rest of my faction. A few years ago we had a storm so big that the power went out for three whole days. No power means no machines, no machines means no research, and no research means no progress. Ever since then, the Erudite have been wary of storms.

I sat down on the grass, totally aware that it was soaking the seat of my pants, and looked up at the sky. The rain got into my eyes and dotted my cheeks, a few drops trickling into my hair.

"Careful; you'll get waterlogged." A playful voice said.

I whipped around toward the sound, tense, but quickly relaxed, a smile spreading across my face.

"Jeremiah." I said simply.

"Greyson." The boy replied, walking over to me and sitting down.

"How'd you find me?" I asked, watching as the rain fell into his auburn hair.

"There aren't many places you go besides your house, school, and here, and you weren't at home." He said with a smile, his blue eyes staring deeply into my hazel ones. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say you haven't completed your schoolwork. Am I wrong?"

I shook my head. "Right on point, as always."

He gave a sigh and ran his fingers through his dampening hair. "Grey, you need to learn to do your work. You have to get good grades and study hard if you want to succeed in Erudite."

"You and I both know that I'm not going to stay in Erudite." I pointed out gently. At that, the boy went silent.

Jeremiah and I had been friends ever since we were little. It all started in Year 1, when he was being bullied on the playground by a few Candor kids and I stood up for him. He had been my shadow all through primary school, depending on me for safety. I was fine with it; he was nice and I liked to feel needed. It was only once we began secondary school that I really started to open up to him. It turned out that he wasn't just a mousy kid with a fear of heights; he was a really kind and thoughtful person. He helped me with my classwork, and got me out of a few really tough situations. Jeremiah was my rock. I could tell him anything.

The summer between Year 9 and Year 10 was almost like a transformation for Jer. He turned from an acne-ridden boy with an afro into the cutest guy at school. The bullying stopped overnight; soon, _all_ the girls wanted to date him, and _all_ the girls were jealous that we were so close. Some of the harrassment turned on me, but it stopped soon after Jeremiah told them not to be mean to me. Now he was standing up for me. I needed him, though I hated to admit it. Even though his looks and popularity had changed drastically, he was still the same old Jeremiah. He still needed help asking a girl out, and he still had troubles with doing a big gesture. And any time I needed to talk, he would clear his schedule for me in the blink of an eye. He was my best friend.

"Are you really gonna transfer?" He asked, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

"I don't know." I answered truthfully.

"What will happen if you do?"

"I don't know."

"Will we stay in touch?"

"I don't know."

"Do you ever say anything other than I don't know?"

"Do you ever stop asking questions?"

The boy huffed and lifted his wrist to check his watch. "You haven't eaten breakfast and neither have I. We need to head back."

"You know I don't eat breakfast." I said.

"Greyson, breakfast is the most important meal of the day! It gives you nutrients you need to have a healthy, happy life. You know the reason why you're such a procrastinator is because you don't eat your break-"

"Jeremiah." I interrupted, fixing him with a patient yet unsatisfied glare.

The boy quieted down and stood up, offering me his hand. I used it for support and stood up, then laced my fingers with his and squeezed his hand. This was usual for us; we always were a bit affectionate toward each other. We walked in silence through the streets, hand in hand, admiring our surroundings as the first people began to slip out onto the street. The rain thickened as we neared our street, drenching the both of us. We walked a little faster at that. After about 5 minutes, we arrived at my house, which was just down the street from his. He turned to face me, looked at me for a moment, and then gave me a big hug.

"Hey-good luck today." He murmured softly, his lips moving against my hair. That was the first time all day he had mentioned the test, and that made it all the more real.

I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent. It was soft and strong at the same time, almost like the rain itself. "You too." I said, burying my head into his collarbone. I felt like, at that moment, I could stay there for a thousand years. Anticipating the test, fearing it, but safe for just those few seconds in my best friend's arms.

But the few seconds soon passed, and he pulled away. I missed his warmth, the way his breath felt against my ear. I know that it sounds like I loved him, and I did. But we weren't in love. Our love was a friend-love; it would never surpass that.

"Have fun." I said, grinning.

A smile flickered upon Jeremiah's face. "You too, Grey. You too." With that, he turned around and walked away.

I sighed and approached my front door, unlocking it and pushing it open.

Whenever I went out on one of my morning ventures, I had a small part of me that feared my father finding out. Maybe he would get home after one of his frequent night shifts and discover me not there, or get a call from the officials. But that never happened. When I trudged upstairs, leaking water onto the hardwood floors, and knocked on his office door, there was no answer.

With heavy feet, I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I was totally drenched, but it was alright; school started in an hour and a half. That would give me enough time to dry my hair, change clothes and maybe get a bit of schoolwork done before the bus came in an hour.

I walked over to the mirror and grabbed a towel, then began slowly drying my hair. It was long, wavy and brown, the way it always had been. Ever since I was little, it was long, wavy, and brown. I liked my hair, but every time I looked in the mirror, it seemed like an attachment to my childhood. I always wanted to cut it, but never really had the courage to.

When my hair was just slightly damp, I abandoned the towel and went to my closet. It wasn't very diverse; most of it was blue, with a few blacks mixed in. I had a lot of jeans, and a lot of T-shirts. My style wasn't much of an array. Nevertheless, today was important. I needed to look presentable, or at least better than usual. I grabbed a pair of black leggings, a white camisole, and a blue blazer-like jacket. I hated camisoles and leggings. I wasn't one of those girls who showed off their body, and I was fine with girls who did, I just didn't feel comfortable doing that. Camis and leggings were tighter than I was used to. For shoes, I picked out a pair of black flats (again, something I hated wearing; flats pinched my toes). A sensible outfit, yes, but uncomfortable. After I was all dressed, I went downstairs to where my bookbag was.

My "bookbag" was not so much a bookbag as it was a few pieces of fabric stuck together with a lot of tape. It was ripped at the seams from the weight of my textbooks, and I used so much tape trying to put it back together that the color had worn off. It was old and crappy, and I had no idea why I didn't just get a new one. It's not like we didn't have the money to.

I grabbed a large book with "Algebra" printed in big letters on the front, and slammed it down on my dining table, opening it to a page with doodles all over it. Most of the actual problems were obscured by pen, and I had trouble reading the text.

About ten minutes after I began working on the problems, I heard the door open and close, and the jingle of keys being looped around a hook on the wall. Curious, I got up from my chair and walked into the kitchen to see my father. I hadn't seen him in about a week; he'd been coming home late at night, grabbing a snack, sleeping for roughly two hours, and leaving to go back to the research lab. He needed to shave, and to take a shower, but when he saw me, he smiled nonetheless.

"Greyson," he said. His voice was low and rough. He was tired, but that was to be expected. "I've missed you."

I smiled and walked over to give him a hug. "I've missed you too, Dad." I kissed him on the cheek, his stubble scraping my skin. "How are things at the lab?"

My father scratched his chin and ran his fingers through his hair, a sign that he was unsatisfied.

"Things are running slow, kiddo." He sighed. "It's not something I want to get into, but... I may be home a lot more often starting soon."

I was surprised, and a little angry. My father was the top researcher in all of Chicago; how could he be taking a break? He was so close to finding out the cure to this. He couldn't give up now.

"I'm sorry, Dad." I said. "That sucks..."

"It's alright. Besides, there are more important things to celebrate. Your test is today!" He grinned, but I could see something in his eyes that said he was anything other than happy. "Are you excited?"

I shrugged. "No, not really. It's just another day."

"That's true, but there will be so many days in your lifetime, kiddo. If you don't make at least one or two special, you're in for a long and boring ride." He pointed out.

"I guess so, yeah." I didn't want to talk about it much. "Do you want breakfast? I could make some eggs or something."

"Sure, kiddo, that'd be great. You sure you have time? I'd be fine with you being late any other day, but today is kind of important."

"I have time." I said simply, walking to the kitchen and grabbing the egg carton. My dad was one of my favorite people. You'd think that since he was a research junkie he'd be strict about my education, but he didn't really care much if I was late or if I didn't get the best grades. His path was knowledge; mine was different. He understood that.

I grabbed the frying pan and cracked the eggs, then began to scramble them. My mouth watered at the scent, but I wasn't going to eat; I still had homework to finish.

Once the eggs had finished, I walked with the plate to where my father was sitting. However, once I entered the dining room, I saw that he was slumped over in his chair, asleep. I gave a sigh and set the plate down in front of him. When he woke up, he'd have to warm it in the microwave, but the eggs would still be pretty good.

I checked the time on the clock over the stove and saw that it was 8:20. The bus would arrive in ten minutes, and I still hadn't packed my bag! I grabbed my algebra textbook, shoved it in my bookbag, and ran for the door, making sure to grab my umbrella on the way out.

It felt a bit weird knowing that the next time I got home, I'd know what I was. A kid's entire life was based off of what they were, which faction they were in, how their mind worked. Today I would finally know, and tomorrow I would decide. Did I want to spend my life learning, striving for knowledge everywhere I went? Or being kind to others? Was I destined to be selfless, or honest? Was I brave? I didn't know, and for now that was okay.

After all, they do say that ignorance is bliss.

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 **The next chapter should be up in the next few days. Please review, favorite and follow; it means a lot.**


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